


Sparring in a Winter Wonderland (Ethereal Moon 1186)

by Sav572



Series: The Wolf and the Demon [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Post-Canon, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sav572/pseuds/Sav572
Summary: Following the Fódlan Unification War, the Duke of Fraldarius visits the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros.Following a long separation from his betrothed, Felix Fraldarius greets Byleth Eisner in the way only they know how.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Wolf and the Demon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510343
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20
Collections: Felileth Secret Santa 2020





	Sparring in a Winter Wonderland (Ethereal Moon 1186)

**Author's Note:**

> There were a few notable things about [Endspire's](https://twitter.com/end_spire?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor) prompt list  
> Likes: Likes: Felileth, all of the blue lions, fluff, sparring  
> Dislikes: That reincarnation fic hurt me too badly for me to want that again   
> (Thanks Rydia :P)
> 
> The moment I noticed one of her prompts was a snowball fight, I couldn't resist connecting the dots. End, For all your excellent artwork I truly hope my take on your prompt was unique and brings a smile to your face. Merry Christmas!
> 
> My heartfelt gratitude also goes out to TrickySleeves, who put up with me spending five minutes rewording a single line, as well as being a VERY picky beta on her fic.

In the days when Garreg Mach had been an academy, its second floor housed faculty offices. As a student, the only reason Felix had ever trudged up the stairs was if he had suffered an injury while sparring. Following the war, the academy portion of Garreg Mach remained closed. Instead, it was solely a monastery serving as the headquarters of the Church of Seiros. Even so Felix, now Duke of Fraldarius, trudged that same hallway. Considering the snowshower outside, likely leaving clumps of white in his wake.

At the end of the hallway, two knights clad in the white of the church guarded the door between the duke and his destination. Eager to pass, he peeled off the glove on his left hand and raised it. The signet ring on his pinky was more powerful than a scowl had ever been. A single flash of it was all it took for the two knights to step aside with a bow. 

As the door opened Felix's heart began to race.

The audience chamber was a room that Felix's younger self had seldom stepped foot in. Not that there was much to see with the crowd of pilgrims and petitioners who filled it from wall to wall. Whether rich or poor those assembled (including himself) had one thing in common; they all vied for the attention of Archbishop Byleth Eisner...his betrothed.

After shaking off the remaining snow from his cloak, Felix steeled himself. His hand itched to draw his silver blade and spar his partner. However, there was no telling if Byleth was properly armed. Even if she was, the action of a blade being drawn against the archbishop would rightfully incite panic within the chamber. 

Their proper 'hello' would have to wait.

Instead, after stepping forward the duke again presented his signet ring. This time the white-clad individual wore a plumed cap, denoting him as a herald. Again a single glance at the ring led to a bow. Although it was customary for commoners and lesser nobles to acknowledge their 'betters', it felt out of place to Felix now that he was the recipient. Nevertheless, it was because of his position of power that the herald began to shove away the crowd, clearing the path for the Duke of Fraldarius.

"Helps us in our time of sorrow and lifts us when we are crushed." The sound of Byleth’s voice made him unintentionally gulp. "May the goddess grant you her consolation, and her strength, and help you to accept her will." 

A moment of silence passed before Seteth spoke, but Felix could not be bothered to pay attention. His Majesty's coronation was the last time he'd laid eyes on his fiancée. A single glimpse of her face and little else mattered.

Seated upon a raised throne, Archbishop Eisner was dressed in the same vestments as her predecessor, Rhea. To Felix's relief, it appeared that Byleth had regained her commanding aura. While said aura was nowhere near as intimidating as the 'Ashen Demon' of the war, it was a far cry from what had occurred during the coronation. 

"Your Most Reverend Grace." The formal title used by the herald never failed to grate on Felix. "May I present to you His Noble Grace, the Duke of Fraldarius.”

Emerald eyes blinked, then swept over the crowd until they landed on him, and widened. Suppressing the smile that tugged at his lips, Felix approached the dais. 

Those fortunate enough to receive an audience with the archbishop were expected to follow a certain protocol. No matter one's rank or wealth they genuflected, then kissed the archbishop's signet ring. 

As protocol dictated, the archbishop remained seated. "Duke Fraldarius, this is...a surprise." Her left hand slightly trembled when she extended it towards him. "I...pray all is well?"

Felix chose his response carefully. "As well as could be expected, archbishop."

As protocol dictated, the duke genuflected, then clasped the archbishop’s hand. The lone ring placed upon her pinky drew his attention. It mocked him. It mocked everything he and Byleth had sacrificed during the war. It mocked what should have been their immediate future together.

As protocol dictated, the duke lowered his head. But it was not the gold signet that Felix reverently kissed. His lips pressed against the flesh of Byleth's ring finger, where the evidence of their promise should have rested.

Before reluctantly prying himself away from the contact, Felix squeezed his betrothed hand. Then as protocol dictated, the duke walked away from the dais. 

When the duke again faced the throne, Seteth cleared his throat. "State your business with the Church of Seiros." 

The words were a practiced script but nevertheless irritated Felix. While his visit was a surprise, the overbearing man was one of the few who knew of their engagement. 

"My business with Her Grace is private. I require an immediate personal audience." 

Seteth crossed his arms, frustration flooded his features. There was no doubt in Felix's mind that another  _ riveting  _ lecture was in his future.

"Unfortunately, the archbishop's schedule has already been fil—"

The archbishop held up her hand, silencing the man. "Time can always be made for allies of the church. The duke's will come after my flock has been attended to. Seteth, inform the knights that Duke Fraldarius has free rein within the monastery during his visit." 

Smug from his victory, Felix looked directly at Seteth and smirked. It took effort to keep his voice level. "Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to our time together."

When the Duke of Fraldarius turned, the herald forced the crowd to part for him. While the man directed him towards the archbishop's private residence, there was an essential errand Felix needed to run before properly greeting Byleth. For that, he hustled to the spot where his suspicion of a mercenary evolved into a respect for his professor; the training ground.

* * *

For the first time in her (admittingly short) reign as archbishop, Byleth looked forward to an audience. Most visitors to Garreg Mach wanted something; advice, a blessing, or some sort of aid. But this was Felix. No matter what business Duke Fraldarius had, her swordsman betrothed would make time for  _ them _ . 

Bounding up the stairs to the third floor, Byleth sent her headpiece and heels clattering to the ground. 

Her swordsman. 

From the earliest stages of their relationship, Felix was her sparring partner. 

In their days as professor and student, 'Professor Eisner' had accepted the young swordsman's challenges to better him. Felix studied her, more so than any material Byleth assigned, as he chased after a victory to prove he had surpassed her. 

A victory over the other was the end goal of their bouts to this day. However, over the course of the war, their reason for seeking the other out evolved. Sparring became a way for them to check for lingering injuries, relieve stress, and on occasion to catch up after an absence. 

With the war over their time apart was no longer occasional thanks to the long distance between their respective seats of power. In this time of peace, this was only their second time in the same building, only their second bout.

From the top of the landing, it was a short dash to the terrace where Byleth suspected her swordsman to be. Sure enough that suspicion was on target. On the snow-covered tile between the two empty ponds, Felix stood stripped of his ducal finery. Where most visitors brought paperwork, he held two training swords in his hands. When their eyes met a knowing smile crept across his face. 

Desperate as Byleth was to properly greet Felix, sparring in the snow without anything on her feet would be only slightly worse than attempting to do so in heels. Fortunately, the archbishop’s bed-chamber was across the hall. 

After raking her eyes again over her betrothed, Byleth let the embroidered shawl around her shoulders crumple onto the floor and dipped into the room. In one fell swoop, she stuffed her feet into her once battle-worn, now dusty riding boots and snatched her cloak from where it had been hanging. 

When Byleth turned towards the terrace, amber eyes were still fixed upon her. 

"I trust your edge hasn’t dulled.” Her swordsman extended one of the wooden blades, offering it over. "It would take a lifetime to find a partner half of what you are."

Ignoring the warmth that spread in her cheeks, Byleth ripped the blade from her partner's hand. "Save the comments on my edge for after you yield." 

Puffs of white followed Felix's dark chuckle as he backed away, putting some distance between them. Together they sunk into their stances and began a familiar dance. It was routine for their spars to begin with a warm-up before their blows escalated into the bout itself. However, when Byleth raised her arms to broadcast a slice she was suddenly jerked to a stop. _ Shit. Stupid dress. Stop. Don’t seem vulnerable. _

Her hope that Felix hadn’t noticed the handicap was brief. The silence of the terrace was broken by the crunch of snow. A blur of indigo and teal rushed towards Byleth. A swish of air was only narrowly followed by a crack of wood as she managed to meet his strike. 

The former mercenary’s instinct was to parry the blow. But again the armpit of the dress caught, restricting her movement. Byleth grit her teeth. It was the first time in her recent memory that she had been forced on the defensive.  _ Play this off. Distract him. Don’t seem vulnerable. _

“You could have sent a messenger ahead, Felix. I would have canceled the public audience. I could have been there when you landed.” She remarked, attempting to buy herself time. 

“But I  _ surprised  _ you.” While her swordsman's words were sweet, his eyes were narrowed. "It took all my willpower not to charge through the crowd to get to you, but I was able to actually surprise you. That rare look on your face made my patience worthwhile."

He pressed his weight forward, forcing Byleth to step backward. With every step, her options began to dwindle.

"Well, it was my first pleasant surprise in…." She shook her head, dismissing the melancholy thought threatening to distract her. "I'm happy you're here." On the next step back, Byleth recognized the edge of the pond. Too much further and they would be indoors. It was now or never. She continued the conversation only to mask her intention. "What brings my beloved duke to Garreg Mach?" 

"Officially? As far as His Majesty knows I'm reques—"

A burst of yellow light emanated from Byleth's sword-hand. In that instant, she parried upward. With an echoing rip, the silken material split, freeing her arm. The sacred vestment could not withstand the Crest of Flames...and neither could her partner who went staggering away from the force. 

Five quick steps to the side, and six steps forward. The empty pond physically separated them. 

"Tch. Someone got desperate." Felix teasingly chided her.

In most circumstances, Byleth would have followed a successful parry up with an attack, but unleashing her crest opened a crate of worms. When it came to their skill with a blade, she and Felix were evenly matched. However, in all-out combat, her swordsman held one advantage; his (brief) study of reason. One direct blast of thunder, no matter how nonlethal, would prove her partner was in a position to force her to yield.

Eyeing her swordsman's gloves, Byleth watched for sparks. From square one their bout restarted as the pair began encircling the terrace, seeking an opening. When Felix adjusted his grip on the sword, she prepared herself for a gamble. _ Wait for his cast...dodge...retaliate. _

"But not nearly as desperate as those rebels at home." 

There was no time for Byleth to be shocked by the news. In a fluid motion, Felix twisted his sword-arm. A bolt of light hurled across the air. She dropped and rolled away just as the singe filled her nose. Back on her feet, Byleth sprinted toward her partner in a bullrush.  _ Stab? Result is a loss. He'll sidestep, and counter. Overhead swing? Result is a stalemate. He'll activate the Crest of Fraldarius, and block. Uppercut? That would never work in a battle but…. _

With Felix in range, the tip of the wooden sword was dug into the snow. Aided by the Crest of Flames an uppercut launched a thick blanket of white into the air.  _ His vision should be impaired. Finish him.  _

Swinging blindly, wood cracked against wood. Undeterred, Byleth extended her elbow and turned inwards. As her back became pressed against Felix's front, her elbow collided with his ribs. A pained groan followed.  _ Fortunately, we can both take more punishment than a bruise or six.  _

Then a leg threaded in-between her gown. Instinctively, Byleth moved to leap away but was subsequently caught by her swordsman's muscled arm.  _ Unfortunately, we can both take more punishment than a bruise or six. _

Just as the snow began to settle, it was again kicked up as Felix swiped her leg out, sending them both toppling to the ground. From there, chaos ensued. Two sets of grunts echoed while their limbs tangled, and bodies twisted. 

When they finally separated, Byleth found herself on her stomach. Though she was unarmed, an opportunity presented itself; her swordsman was flat on his back. Before he could recover, she launched forward, until her body covered his while she straddled his waist. 

In the heat of the moment, to force her partner’s concession, Byleth reached for the dagger holstered on her right hip. But instead of a black leather grip, all she found was air. The dagger was under her pillow. For it was improper, an act of bad faith in the Knights of Seiros for ‘Archbishop Eisner’ to publicly arm herself. 

Her attention snapped back to Felix. The mischievous glint in the man's eyes told Byleth that she had somehow fallen into his trap. Before she could secure his arms, her swordsman leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. Byleth couldn't help the way she melted into the confusing, yet warm embrace.

A violent shock of cold down her back caused Byleth to shudder. With each involuntarily shiver, the sensation slid further and further down her dress. In a blink of an eye, Felix's full weight and vicious amber eyes bore down upon her. To Byleth's dismay, the embrace had been both the bait and the trap. While the snow shoved down her dress had proven to be an effective distraction. Their positions had been reversed. She found herself pinned; her arms by his legs.

"Yield. Now." Felix snarled into her ear once his forearm rested on her throat. 

Slowly, but firmly he applied pressure down onto her windpipe. It was too dangerous for Byleth to struggle...their bout was complete. Two hard taps against her partner's calf and the constriction ceased. Felix gently rolled away and sat at her side.

"Are you injured?" It was his usual question whenever their spars devolved into hand-to-hand combat.

Though Byleth tried to say 'no', all she could manage was a series of coughs. Instead, she shook her head. The only thing injured was her pride. Her pride and perhaps 'future Byleth's' eardrums once Seteth learned of another dress being ruined. 

"You mentioned—" When another set of coughs became lodged in her throat, the arm that had caused them cradled Byleth, gently lifting her upright. "You mentioned rebels in the Dukedom?" 

"Everything is fine." Felix insisted though he had briefly looked away. "You're welcome to deny my request for manpower. It was mostly a good excuse to see you again."

There was no need for Byleth to deliberate her response. "You'll get whatever you need. Protect our home." 

Pressing a kiss against her forehead, he chuckled. "There's only one blade I  _ need _ to take home with me, but I doubt that's an option." 

Clenching her jaw shut, Byleth refused to voice the thought that crossed her mind.  _ A brief taste of home, only to return here would hurt more than the distance between us. _

Rather than souring the mood, she sighed their mutual hope "One day, Felix. One day. I promise we'll stop missing one another one day." 

When leather-covered fingers cupped her chin, Byleth gladly allowed Felix to guide her to his lips. Realistically, it was impossible for a single kiss to magically erase life's woes. Yet when their lips met, she lingered in the once familiar scent of pine and blade oil. It was the closest thing to a home that Garreg Mach had felt since her reign began, and that was enough. 

At least it was enough until her swordsman pulled away from the kiss. The groan that the loss of contact elicited from Byleth was too pathetic for either the famed 'Ashen Demon' or the 'Most Reverend Archbishop Eisner'. But then Felix growled against her lip, and she groaned for an entirely different reason. 

In a tone reserved for the rare occasions that had allowed them a room to themselves, he whispered. "So, what spoils can this victor reap today, By?" 

Biting her lip, Byleth recalled the frigid feeling down her back, the trap her partner had set to achieve his victory. If the man thought anything other than a trap of her own was in his future...that was his problem. 

As she traced her fingers over the scars and contours that made up her swordsman's arm, Felix shut his eyes. Byleth took that opportunity to scoop a handful of snow into her other hand, forming it into a crude ball. When she stood, a look of confusion crossed her betrothed's face. 

But it didn't last long. 

With a flick of Byleth’s wrist, the frozen projectile flew from her hand, and pelted Felix square on the face, completing her retribution. As her swordsman's confusion warped into indignation, she made her escape.

"Byleth Eisner! Get back here!” His bellowing fell upon willfully deaf ears. “Byleth!”

Just as she reached the doorway something whizzed by her head, thwapping flatly against the stone wall beside her. A split-second glance at the white splat made Byleth glad she was near the safety of cover.

Crossing the threshold, she called out. "Love you." 

To ensure that Felix no longer had a line of sight on her, Byleth rounded the corner. If Seteth had been a blade, she nearly would've been impaled upon him. His always stern, green eyes twitched from her to where she'd come from. 

"Archbishop?" ... "Byleth!" While both men had simultaneously addressed her, it was Felix's voice, too close for comfort, that she acted on. 

Pushing herself off the wall, Byleth weaved behind Seteth. She checked her back just in time to watch Felix round the corner himself, a snowball already flying from his hand. With a  _ thud,  _ the snow hit the archbishop’s advisor and exploded into a cloud of white dust. 

Byleth traded a look of amusement with her swordsman. Then much like the snowball, their combined laughter exploded into the hallway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Everyone!


End file.
